Chapter 3: Beyond the Election

The twelfth day of the election period.

Arriving at school, I picked up the election bulletin and checked the changes in approval ratings.

As expected, Joutou’s approval rating was pulling away from us. With 45% support, Joutou had practically won over nearly half of the student body.

But—.

(…No need to waver.)

What needed to be done was already decided.

Besides, the fact that approval ratings were shifting so much in the final stages was proof that the students’ hearts were still swaying. Even if many votes swung to Joutou after yesterday’s debate, there likely weren’t many students wholeheartedly cheering for Joutou yet. A gap created in a single day could be closed in a single day.

“Tomonari-kun, morning~!”

As I prepared today’s flyers and headed to the schoolyard, I ran into Asahi-san, who was on her way to school.

“Good morning, Asahi-san.”

“Today’s the last day for handing out flyers, huh? Can I have my share?”

“Please, go ahead.”

In the end, ever since the issue with Rintarou was resolved, Asahi-san had been helping us every day. Taishou would probably show up to help later too.

What kind of flyer had we come up with for the final day? Asahi-san looked at the flyer she received in silence, then—

“…This is amazing! I’m so excited for after school!”

“Thank you.”

Her reaction was exactly what I’d hoped for, and I felt satisfied.

But then, a thought hit me—was this really okay? Having her help us until the very end, only to thank her so briefly and part ways like this felt… lacking, didn’t it?

It was a bit too curt, I thought, and I looked at Asahi-san again.

“Asahi-san, thank you so much for helping us until today. Throughout this election period, your brightness has saved me time and time again.”

“Haha… being thanked so directly like that is kinda embarrassing.”

Asahi-san scratched her cheek, looking bashful.

“But the one who cheered me up was you, Tomonari-kun, right?”

“My contribution was maybe half of it, at best.”

I was glad she felt grateful, but…

“With Rintarou’s issue, you were the one who suffered the most, Asahi-san, and you were the one who worked the hardest.”

It wasn’t the kind of problem an outsider could solve just by lending a hand.

Because Asahi-san fought so desperately, all I had to do was give her a little push, and things worked out.

“The election is almost over, but your battle will continue, Asahi-san. So, this time, it’s my turn to help.”

Asahi-san, who had decided to pursue her mobile electronics sales business in the real world, would surely face all sorts of challenges even after the election. I had a responsibility to support her, having given her that push. If Asahi-san ever struggled in the future, I’d have to be the one to help her.

…I felt like I’d had a conversation like this before.

It was the day after Rintarou’s issue was resolved. Back then, our positions were reversed—Asahi-san had promised to help me. It almost felt like we’d fallen into a loop of helping each other, but if it was a loop like this, I welcomed it wholeheartedly.

What was it that Asahi-san had said to me back then?

…I remembered.

“Just let me know anything. Next time, I’ll be your hands and feet, Asahi-san.”

“…Ah.”

Asahi-san’s cheeks suddenly flushed red, and she covered them with both hands as if to hide it.

“Ughhh… this is bad.”

“Huh?”

“W-Wait a sec. Just… step back a little, okay?”

Looking incredibly flustered, Asahi-san backed away, putting distance between us.

“Ehehe… any more than this, and, um, it’d feel unfair to Tennouji-san and the others…”

Her ears bright red, Asahi-san gazed at me with moist eyes.

Why did Tennouji-san’s name come up here?

I started to worry about Asahi-san, who was stammering as if feverish.

“Asahi-san, are you feeling okay—?”

“Wahhh!?”

When I stepped closer to check her complexion, she backed away with incredible speed.

Huh…?

“T-Tomonari-kun!!”

“Yes!?”

Her sudden loud voice startled me, and I reflexively answered just as loudly.

“Keep that kind of thing for Tennouji-san and the others!!”

“Yes!! …Wait, huh?”

After answering on reflex, I tilted my head, not understanding what she meant.

“Um, what do you mean by ‘that kind of thing’…?”

“Figure it out yourself!!”

Asahi-san pointed at me as she spoke.

While I stood there, bewildered, a male student approached us.

“…What are you two doing, making a scene in public?”

Rintarou approached, looking exasperated.

“Good morning, Tomonari-senpai.”

“Morning, Rintarou. …Um, sorry for doubting you yesterday.”

“It’s fine. It was my fault for doing something that made me look suspicious in the first place.”

Even if I wasn’t calm at the time, I shouldn’t have let myself fall into such paranoia from the start. I knew Rintarou regretted his role in the negative campaign, yet I’d still suspected him.

But Rintarou brushed off my apology without a care.

Then he glanced at Asahi-san, whose face was still red.

“Ane-san, if it’s Tomonari-senpai, you’ve got my full support, you know?”

“Wha!?”

“If you two end up in that kind of relationship, it’d make it easier for me to recruit Tomonari-senpai to the company. So, come on, make your move. You’re clever, Ane-san—you’ve got plenty of tricks up your sleeve. Just, you know, no seduction tactics.”

“R-Rintarou~~~ !!”

Rintarou bolted, and Asahi-san chased after him.

I couldn’t tell if their relationship was good or bad, but to an outsider, they seemed awfully close.

For now, I decided to start handing out flyers… but just as I thought that, Rintarou did a full circle and came back to me.

“Can I have a flyer?”

“Oh, sure.”

He could’ve just gotten one from Asahi-san…

Looking over, I saw Asahi-san in the distance, hands on her knees, catching her breath. It seemed Rintarou had the upper hand in this test of stamina.

I handed him a flyer, and Rintarou read it with a serious expression.

“…I really wish you’d joined our side, Tomonari-senpai.”

Rintarou gave a slightly lonely smile.

◆

After school.

Standing in front of the study room we’d used before, I took a deep breath.

Aside from the final speech, this moment was the last battle for us officer candidates.

I recalled the battles so far. Since the election period began, we’d been trading speeches for a while. Flyer distribution, posters, and then the “Daily Lives of Officer Candidates” segment that Minato-senpai had created. At first, these elements influenced approval ratings.

Then came Rintarou’s negative campaign. After discussing it with Asahi-san, we resolved the issue, but it led to two new problems. First, our election activities stalled as we scrambled to dispel rumors.

The second was that Joutou got serious.

The first thing Joutou did after resolving to get serious was to recruit Minato-senpai to their side. We countered by securing the support of Asahi-san, Taishou, Suminoe-san, Kita, and Hinako. The battle of reinforcements ended in a back-and-forth stalemate.

After that, we launched a guerrilla marketing campaign.

The guerrilla marketing was largely successful, but we couldn’t pull far ahead of Joutou. Looking back, I’d hoped to settle things here and spend the remaining days on safer election activities. But Joutou didn’t let that happen.

In the following debate, we were cornered by Minato-senpai and put at a disadvantage.

And so, we arrived at today, still in an inferior position.

Thinking about it, starting with the guerrilla marketing, we’d been drawing attention through events rather than speeches. At this point, relying solely on speeches wouldn’t lead to bold shifts in approval ratings. We’d discussed this with Tennouji-san and the others last night.

So, what had we decided to do for our final move—?

“Um…”

As I took yet another deep breath, a female student spoke to me.

“Is this where Tennouji-san’s…?”

“Yes, this is the right classroom. Please, come in.”

I guided the student into the study room.

The study room had transformed completely since we last used it. Before, it had rows of computer desks, but now all that equipment had been moved to another room.

Instead, the center of the room was filled with various booths.

The mastermind behind this setup was Tennouji-san.

“Welcome—to the Policy Experience Fair.”

The Policy Experience Fair. That was the final move we’d chosen.

As the name suggested, it was an event where students could experience a future where our policies were realized. For example, Tennouji-san’s fair featured several booths: one where students could consult one-on-one with a manners instructor, another for lecture-style etiquette lessons, and a booth for hands-on table manners practice.

Every booth’s concept was meticulously planned by Tennouji-san from start to finish. And what was Tennouji-san herself doing? She was acting as an instructor, teaching students etiquette.

“When drinking soup, move the spoon from front to back.”

Tennouji-san’s voice came from the table manners booth by the window.

Four chairs surrounded a round table, each occupied by a student. The table was set with various cutlery, and each student had a plate of soup in front of them.

“What do you do when the soup starts running low?”

“Like this—tilt the plate to scoop quietly.”

Tennouji-san demonstrated, tilting the plate away from her to scoop the soup.

(…Nostalgic.)

Moving the spoon from front to back was, if I recalled, British-style etiquette.

When I first became an caretaker, Shizune-san drilled manners into me like that. Later, Tennouji-san taught me as well, and my table manners were perfected. The etiquette I’d mastered carried the influence of both Shizune-san and Tennouji-san.

“If you focus too much on manners, won’t it come off as stiff?”

“It depends on the situation. When dining with superiors, it’s not wise to break form first. If it’s a business connection, you’ll likely have second or third meals together, so there’s no need to rush to close the distance.”

This kind of firsthand experience was probably the most valuable information.

Knowledge and practice are different. You might ace a test but fumble in real life. When it came to etiquette, Tennouji-san, a seasoned veteran, captivated students with her stories.

Next, noodle dishes were served.

A student sitting across from Tennouji-san slurped their noodles.

“That’s a very appetizing way to eat, but slurping noodles is a breach of etiquette.”

“What, even in China?”

“Yes. Slurping noodles is unique to Japan.”

“…I had no idea. Most of my past dining partners were from Mediterranean countries.”

That was news to me, too.

Come to think of it, I’d learned British and French table manners but not much about Asian etiquette. I should probably ask Tennouji-san or Shizune-san to teach me later.

Some students savored the food with delight. Even the refined palates of Kiou Academy students were charmed by the high-class cuisine required for table manners practice.

All the dishes served were crafted by top-tier chefs. Tennouji-san and I had spent a long time discussing this. We considered using sample dishes to cut costs, but ultimately decided against it because we’re traditionalists.

While Joutou aimed to overhaul Kiou Academy’s traditions with a scrap-and-build approach, what we valued was the essence of Kiou Academy… in other words, its authenticity.

So, what is the essence of Kiou Academy?

Being genuine.

Cutting corners here would mean losing what we hold dear. So, we decided to use only authentic dishes, no samples.

Money was fine to spend. Connections were fine to leverage. Even borrowing family influence was acceptable.

Educating elite individuals in the finest environment—that’s what Kiou Academy is.

Shifting my gaze, I saw the female student I’d guided earlier entering the one-on-one consultation booth with a manners instructor.

“I have an important dinner next week, but I’m not confident about table manners…”

“Let’s go over them. Do you know the restaurant?”

“I heard it’s a ristorante.”

“I see. In that case, let’s cover the dress code as well.”

A ristorante refers to a high-end Italian restaurant, typically with a dress code and course-based ordering. Though some casual places now call themselves ristorantes, it’s best to check the restaurant’s vibe beforehand to choose the right attire.

Looking back at the table manners booth, the lesson had just ended, and students were leaving. But new students immediately took their place. Tennouji-san had no time to rest, yet she looked utterly fulfilled.

Spotting a new student entering, Tennouji-san called out.

“Oh, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“You remembered me! I was in your class last year…”

“Of course I remember. Come, take a seat here.”

The student beamed and sat across from Tennouji-san.

It was probably her charisma. Tennouji-san’s booth was the most lively.

(I should check on Narika’s side, too.)

I wanted to see how the other Policy Experience Fair was going.

As I left the study room to head there, I ran into Fukushima-sensei.

“Fukushima-sensei.”

“Tomonari-kun, good work.”

“Good work to you, too. …Thank you for approving this event.”

“Don’t mention it. Using empty classrooms for election activities was already discussed during the guerrilla marketing phase, so approving this was straightforward.”

Just like with the guerrilla marketing, we’d consulted various teachers for this Policy Experience Fair. I couldn’t thank them enough for making time despite their busy schedules.

“That aside… this is quite an event you’ve planned.”

Fukushima-sensei said, peering into the study room from the hallway.

Hearing that from a teacher’s perspective boosted my confidence.

“This isn’t a scene you could create without a CEO’s vision.”

As expected. She’d grasped our intent in an instant.

She wasn’t a Kiou Academy teacher for nothing.

“Yes, that’s exactly why we planned it.”

For a moment, we exchanged smiles.

It goes without saying, but this Policy Experience Fair wasn’t just for fun. I—we—saw two key advantages in this event.

Fukushima-sensei might have seen through both.

“…During this election period, several officer candidates visited the staff room.”

Fukushima-sensei suddenly brought up.

Other students, like me, must have gone to consult the teachers.

“Among them, the one who visited the staff room the most… was you, Tomonari-kun.”

I had a vague sense of that.

“Sorry for causing so much trouble.”

“No, no, I’m praising you.”

I tilted my head.

It didn’t sound like praise… but Fukushima-sensei’s gentle expression suggested she genuinely meant it.

“Actually, every year when the election period starts, a rumor circulates among the teachers. They say the student who wins the election is the one who visits the staff room the most.”

That kind of rumor…

“And it’s true—last year and the year before, that’s how it turned out. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? Visiting the staff room often means you’re tackling unique challenges. That initiative is what captures the students’ hearts, I think.”

Fukushima-sensei explained why this rumor often became reality.

“This year’s student council election has been more exciting than usual. I can’t favor any specific student due to my position, but… I think the reason for that excitement is you, Tomonari-kun.”

“…Thank you.”

Considering her position, she was probably praising me indirectly.

To hear that from someone who’d seen last year’s and the year before’s elections… I was truly honored.

“You might want to mentally prepare yourself. If things go well, I think you’ll become vice president.”

“If things go well, huh…”

When I let out an anxious murmur, Fukushima-sensei tilted her head curiously.

I understood what she meant. Since the negative campaign incident, Rintarou had been lying low—likely his way of reflecting. So, it wasn’t unreasonable to think I’d win if things went smoothly…

“Is something worrying you?”

“Well… I might not end up as vice president.”

Fukushima-sensei’s eyes widened.

“Why’s that?”

“Um… sorry, it’d take a while to explain, so I’ll pass for now. Tennouji-san or Narika will probably mention it during the final speech.”

I wanted to check on Narika’s fair, so I’d have to save the explanation for later.

“But even if I don’t get chosen, I won’t have any regrets. So please don’t worry, sensei.”

“…Alright.”

Fukushima-sensei turned away, looking a bit reluctant.

I’d made her worry… I apologized to her in my head before heading to Narika’s Policy Experience Fair.

◆

Tennouji-san’s campaign promise event was realized by holding a manners seminar in the study room.

Narika’s campaign promise event was realized by opening a salon in the auditorium.

At first, I considered using the school’s café, but that would inconvenience those who wanted to use it originally. So, like Tennouji-san, we decided to use a facility with no users after school. The auditorium is only used for school-wide assemblies, making it, like the study room, a space that’s usually empty. For now, we’re just borrowing it temporarily, but if Narika becomes president, we might be able to keep using the auditorium. Even hinting at that possibility makes students feel Narika’s promise is realistic.

The salon, making full use of the auditorium, resembled a large-scale café, but while there were round tables, no chairs were provided.

We deliberately made this salon a standing event. When students sit, their positions become fixed, limiting the interactions that are the very purpose of the salon. The standing format creates an atmosphere where people can move freely. Chairs would restrict the number of people gathering at a table, but in a standing conversation, anyone can join in.

That said, standing for too long can be tiring, so we placed chairs along the walls. Those who get tired can rest by the wall for a bit, then return to the central tables to rejoin the conversation… that’s the flow we hoped to create. Narika and I discussed and agreed on this.

From what I can see, that plan has been perfectly realized.

At the center of the salon was an especially large crowd. A female student, slightly hesitant, called out to Narika, who stood in the middle.

“Actually, I’m terrible at martial arts, and my parents often scold me for it…”

“Then I’ll teach you.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah. In return, you’re good at studying, right? I heard that guy over there is struggling to keep up in history class. Could you help him out?”

Narika skillfully connected the students.

The male student, who admitted to struggling with studies, gave a slight bow to the female student who was bad at martial arts.

“Please, I’m counting on you.”

“Leave it to me. History is my specialty.”

I could make a jab about Narika needing to join them for study help, but I’ll let that slide.

This campaign event seems to be going smoothly as well.

Unlike Tennouji-san’s manners seminar, Narika’s promise to establish a salon allows every student to casually take on the role of a teacher. In a way, everyone is both a teacher and a student. As a result, similar conversations are happening at other tables, even without Narika’s presence.

“My parents want me to take over the family business, but I’m thinking of starting a company overseas…”

“Oh, what a coincidence! I’m also considering activities abroad and just discussed it with my parents the other day.”

“How did you convince your parents?”

“Well, in my case, I started by—”

The students are actively engaging in conversation.

Conversations to change themselves…

Looking at the scene before me, I recalled the Management Game. Each participant actively interacted with others to grow their own company. Perhaps the Kiou Academy Narika envisions is one that sustains that atmosphere indefinitely.

(…It’s going well.)

Narika’s promise to establish a salon might sound simplistic in words, but opening the lid reveals it’s producing incredibly meaningful results.

I had Shizune-san as my mentor. I had Asahi-san and Taishou, who spoke to me so openly.

But that was just luck. Most students probably don’t have someone like Shizune-san, Asahi-san, or Taishou. I was helped in part because of my unique position as a caretaker.

On paper, I’m the heir to a mid-tier IT company.

If that were truly the case—would I have aspired to become a consultant?

I’m not confident I would have. That’s why I deeply believe encounters are so important.

To change yourself, who you meet matters.

“You’re pulling off something big again, huh?”

As I calmly observed the salon, someone called out to me.

Turning around, I saw Joutou, the opponent we need to defeat, approaching. Joutou stood beside me, gazing at the salon’s atmosphere just as I was.

“Thanks to you, we’re being pushed into a corner.”

At my words, Joutou made a face like a pigeon hit by a peashooter.

“…I was prepared for a complaint or two, but you’re not going to say anything?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty to say. You coward, haven’t you learned your lesson from Rintarou’s incident?”

“Haha, I appreciate you keeping it to yourself.”

Yeah, yeah, I bet you do.

I’m a gentleman, after all. No way I’d say it out loud.

“You planned something impressive at the last minute. This isn’t something a politician could pull off.”

Joutou said, watching the students chatting amicably.

“Politicians appeal to ideals. Businesspeople promise to solve problems. The ones who can deliver on their word are, without a doubt, the latter. Give them the right materials, and businesspeople will make it happen immediately.”

Exactly. That’s the winning edge Fukushima-sensei saw in us.

While Joutou appealed to the ideal of democratizing Kiou Academy, we presented solutions that, while varying in scale or intent, are not difficult to implement.

We’re conservatives. And because of that, we’re also pragmatists.

Our ability to turn ideals into reality gives us the advantage.

“Even so…”

Joutou trailed off, at a loss for words.

Even so… I know what comes next.

Even so… it’s too lively.

Joutou’s understanding of our winning edge is mostly correct. But he still seemed unconvinced, a trace of doubt lingering on his face. Indeed, this scene is something only a business-minded person could create. Yet, even accounting for that, the scene before us is overflowing with charm.

He’s missing something. But he doesn’t know what.

Seeing through Joutou’s state of mind, I asked,

“Have you figured out our other goal?”

“…Other goal?”

It seems Joutou hasn’t caught on.

Alright, time for the answer.

“Look at this scene.”

This is our second winning edge—

“Doesn’t it feel fun, like a cultural festival?”

I must have looked brimming with confidence as I said it.

Joutou froze, stunned, then gave a shaky laugh.

“Ah, I see… I’ve been had.”

Joutou finally understood.

Our second winning edge.

“Traditionally, the student council’s first task is organizing the cultural festival. So, during the election period, students are already looking ahead, secretly hoping. They’re wondering what kind of cultural festival this candidate will create if they become president.”

Every event hosted by Kiou Academy is lavish and extravagant. The cultural festival is no exception, a grand celebration that invites a large crowd despite being invitation-only.

Surely, many students are looking forward to the cultural festival.

That’s exactly why—

“Seeing this event, they must have thought, ‘I want this person to handle the cultural festival.’”

That’s the victory we aimed for.

To make them want to entrust the cultural festival to us, this campaign event was deliberately designed to evoke the atmosphere of a cultural festival.

It’s not just a fun event for the sake of it.

The campaign event is a perfectly calculated step to lead into the next cultural festival (business).

“The election and what comes after, huh… I had a long-term vision, but I overlooked the cultural festival right under my nose.”

I get how he feels.

The fiercer the election battle, the more we could only focus on the enemy in front of us. There was barely any room to look ahead.

“I realized it after looking at the collected surveys. The students at Kiou Academy are all serious, and because of that, they look forward to the occasional break. …I was surprised, but when we tallied the surveys, more people were talking about the events after the election than the election itself.”

“That… I didn’t notice.”

One happy miscalculation was the low barrier brought by anonymous surveys. No one would boldly tell a presidential candidate face-to-face that they’re more interested in post-election events than the election itself. The anonymous survey format must have encouraged those opinions to pour in.

“Unlike you, I don’t use underhanded tactics.”

To Joutou, who wore a troubled expression, I declared,

This is the resolve I formed last night.

“But I’ve realized a bit of my own weakness. …I think I’ve been respecting you, our enemies, too much. It’s probably because I was scared. If you achieved better results than me, I wanted to respect you instead of feeling regret. That way, it hurts less. Respect is easier to recover from than regret.”

It’s not quite the same as believing in the goodness of people. I respected everyone because I was afraid of being crushed. By keeping myself in a lower position, I could sincerely respect someone who outperformed me and move on. I could accept it and move forward before getting hurt.

But there’s no pride in that. It’s like pretending to be weak every day so I can stay calm even in defeat.

That’s the true coward.

This tendency to casually respect others probably took root when I transferred to Kiou Academy. In an environment where everyone seemed more talented than me, I developed this survival tactic while desperately trying to keep up.

This trait has saved me many times. In fact, Kagen-san even praised me for it. Because I can look at anyone with respect, I learn and grow more than most, he said.

But as I basked in those words, I started to give up thinking. My survival tactic of starting with respect became just a habit.

Respect breeds complacency. And I paid the price for it this time.

That price wasn’t just mine to pay—it dragged Tennouji-san and Narika into it, too.

I won’t make the same mistake again.

“If I become vice president, I need to fix my habit of deferring to others. Respecting everyone indiscriminately only harms the person who becomes president.”

I don’t want to drag anyone else into this like I did this time.

I don’t want to smear mud on the face of someone I truly respect.

“So, I’m going to get stronger. …And I’ll eventually change this way of speaking, too.”

Joutou’s eyebrow twitched. He was probably surprised by my sudden shift in tone.

Sorry if I confused you.

But this is the real me.

The true self I need to gradually reveal.

“This is as far as I can go. The rest is up to Tennouji-san and Narika to handle.”

The only election activity left is the final speech next week.

The one to defeat Joutou there won’t be me—it’ll be Tennouji-san or Narika.

But there’s still time until the final speech. I’ll use the remaining days to do everything I can for those two.

“Joutou, bring it on. We’ll definitely create a better academy than you.”

I respect Joutou, and I feel there are things about him I could never catch up to.

But even so, I clearly declared that he is my enemy.

To defeat him. It was the first time in my life I directed such strong will toward someone, yet I felt oddly refreshed.

◆

After parting with Joutou, I resumed observing Narika’s campaign event.

But my emotions didn’t switch so easily.

To cool my slight excitement, I grabbed a glass from the table and took a sip to soothe my throat. The water had a faint citrus flavor. Even the drinks—how are they this delicious? My commoner sensibilities washed away the excitement from earlier.

“Miyakojima-san!”

An unfamiliar male student called out to Narika in high spirits.

“Thank you for setting up such a wonderful event! Coming to this salon and hearing from so many people helped me resolve a long-standing worry!”

“That’s great to hear. Now, I hope you’ll help someone else resolve their worries.”

“Yes!”

The male student flashed a bright smile.

“Please become president! I’m rooting for you!”

Such kind words.

Narika must be thrilled. Or so I thought…

“…Yeah. Thanks.”

Narika gave a somewhat awkward smile.

The boy who cheered her on didn’t seem to notice and left. But I sensed something off about Narika’s demeanor.

(…Narika?)

What’s wrong?

Why does she look guilty when someone cheers for her to become president?

The old Narika would have beamed with pure joy.

What changed her…?

“…Ah.”

There was one thing that came to mind.

The pure smile she should have shown just now. When was the last time I saw Narika with that expression…? I remembered.

It was the day before we executed the guerrilla marketing.

When I was heading to the staff room, Narika happened to have business there too, and we walked together for a bit.

That’s when I saw Narika’s pure smile.

(…I see.)

Thinking back, Narika was probably struggling even then.

During the debate loss, while planning this campaign event, Narika was likely grappling with something we didn’t know about.

And now, a conclusion has formed within her.

That’s why she couldn’t rejoice sincerely despite the support.

“Narika.”

I approached and called out to her.

“Izuki…”

Turning to me, Narika looked at me with a fragile expression.

But soon, she opened her mouth with resolve.

“Izuki, actually…”

“I know. But am I the only one you need to talk to?”

Cutting her off, I glanced behind me.

There was a first-year female student, hesitating over which table to join.

“She’s here, just in time.”

This conversation should involve her, too.

Understanding my intent, Narika nodded with a tense expression and headed toward the girl.

“Nishi-san.”

“Oh, Miyakojima-senpai. Good work today.”

Nishi-san, called out by Narika, bowed with a friendly air. Having spoken several times recently, they seemed as close as friends.

“I just got here, but it’s really lively, isn’t it? …I think everyone’s been craving an opportunity like this. Miyakojima-senpai, you’re definitely suited to be student council president.”

Nishi-san directed heartfelt respect toward Narika.

Come to think of it, Narika has always had a genius streak, even during the Management Game. She instinctively finds and provides what people subconsciously desire. …Maybe that’s her talent.

But even receiving such respect from a junior, Narika’s face didn’t light up.

With a somewhat stiff expression, she spoke.

“There’s something I’d like to discuss with you, Nishi-san. Could you come to that table over there?”

“…? Sure, that’s fine.”

Nishi-san tilted her head at Narika’s unusually formal tone but followed her.

The three of us—me, Narika, and Nishi-san—gathered around an empty table.

“Um, what’s this about…?”

Nishi-san must have sensed this wasn’t casual chatter. Without touching the glass on the table, she got to the point.

“…Originally, I aimed to become student council president to change myself.”

Narika began, speaking slowly.

“Specifically, I wanted to gain the courage to connect with others. That’s why I aimed for president, thinking it would give me plenty of opportunities to do so, but…”

Perhaps recalling the days leading up to this, Narika faltered for a moment.

“As I continued the election campaign, I started to doubt whether this was the right path.”

“…What do you mean?”

“I began to think that the role with the most opportunities to connect with others might not be the president.”

After struggling and wavering, Narika reached a conclusion and shared it.

“Talking with you, Nishi-san, Abeno-san, and Yodogawa-kun turned my doubts into certainty. The student council president speaks actively in meetings with other officers but often delegates interactions with regular students to others. …The president stands at a distance from other students. That position isn’t so different from the old me, who was feared by everyone.”

Narika, who wanted the courage to connect with others, was particular about physical proximity to every student.

Mental closeness alone wasn’t enough for her. It’s understandable. Mental distance in relationships boils down to things like impressions or images. Narika once suffered from being prejudged as scary, even by people she’d never spoken to. That experience became a lesson for her. Mental distance is fragile compared to physical distance. It can be tainted by one-sided, unfair impressions.

Becoming president would likely earn her a positive image from all students. But Narika wasn’t seeking an image. She wanted the strong bonds formed through direct, face-to-face conversations. That’s what she truly desired.

“Even if I become president, nothing will change. That’s what I realized.”

Looking down at the table, Narika continued.

“So, I thought about which role offers the most opportunities to connect with others.”

With that, Narika looked at Nishi-san.

The student council role with the most opportunities to connect with others. That would be…

“It’s probably… the general affairs officer.”

Nishi-san, meeting Narika’s gaze head-on, gave a small nod.

“…You’re right, I think that’s correct. At Kiou Academy, the general affairs officer also handles external relations, so it’s a position that interacts with various people, both inside and outside the school.”

As she spoke, Nishi-san seemed to grasp what Narika was about to say.

Her face showed a mix of surprise, but the fact that she maintained some composure impressed me.

What Narika was about to say was an unprecedented request.

It would undoubtedly confuse many people, starting with Nishi-san.

But Narika wouldn’t stop.

Narika, who so strongly wished to change herself, would never halt her steps.

“Nishi-san. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I have a request.”

Narika looked straight at Nishi-san.

“Could you, perhaps, hand over the general affairs position to me?”

Deeply, Narika bowed her head.

Her gesture was breathtakingly beautiful. It was a simple act—lowering her head straight down—but precisely because of its simplicity, it revealed the essence of her character, or so I thought. The posture she displayed was nothing short of a paragon of courtesy, a refinement that only someone who had dedicated years to martial arts could achieve. Even though she was the one bowing, I couldn’t help but feel like I was the one ready to surrender.

However, Nishi-san wasn’t about to grant Narika’s request so easily.

Nishi-san carried the same resolve as Narika.

“Please, raise your head.”

Narika slowly lifted her head.

“My older sister left behind countless achievements as the general affairs officer.”

Nishi-san began to speak of her own determination.

“For instance, she invited renowned baristas and siphonists to the academy’s café, elevating the quality of our offerings. When renovating the gardens, she brought in a famous landscape designer to completely transform the scenery. It was also during her time that we started inviting active government ministers to the opening ceremony of the Management Game.”

“That’s… incredible.”

“Yes. She’s my pride and joy.”

Nishi-san smiled with evident pride.

“As I mentioned before, I aimed for general affairs because I wanted to follow in my sister’s footsteps. But unlike her, I’m rather ordinary, so I thought I should at least start taking action from my first year.”

So that’s why, despite being a first-year, she’s aiming for a student council position…

As a transfer student, I could relate. For someone new to Kiou Academy, the difficulty of the classes alone could be overwhelming. It’s already a challenging time, yet she chose to pursue an even tougher path for the sake of her goal. That level of determination deserves respect.

“Are you prepared to carry the weight of all my aspirations?”

Nishi-san looked at Narika, posing the question.

She was deliberately putting pressure on Narika. Her goal—her dream, one might even say—could Narika truly take on all of it?

Narika let out a quiet “Well…” before speaking.

“I’ll do my best.”

With a sharp, determined expression, Narika declared.

…Hmmm.

Shouldn’t she have been more definitive there…?

“…You’re not going to make a firm promise, are you?”

As expected, Nishi-san gave Narika a cold look.

“S-Sorry. But from what I’ve heard, your sister sounds like quite the powerhouse. Honestly, I can’t confidently promise to match her achievements right now.”

Narika’s words sounded hesitant, but Nishi-san’s expression softened slightly. It seemed she was pleased that her sister’s accomplishments were being acknowledged.

“So, when I’m struggling, could I come to you for advice, like I am now?”

At Narika’s words, Nishi-san’s eyes widened.

“…Huh?”

“…Huh? W-Was that not okay?”

For some reason, Narika was the one who looked flustered.

Watching the two of them, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

Oh, right. That’s how Narika’s always been.

Narika’s grades at the academy are slightly behind Tennouji-san and Joutou’s. She excels in sports, but in almost every other area, to put it bluntly, she falls short.

Yet, in this election, Narika’s approval ratings were fiercely competitive with theirs.

The reason? Her potential.

Narika, who desperately wants to change herself, will undoubtedly keep growing. She may not measure up to Nishi-san’s sister now, but her indomitable will ensures she could one day reach that level.

But that’s not something she has to achieve alone.

Since the day Narika realized she needed to change, she broke out of her shell. Understanding that she couldn’t transform herself alone, she began actively relying on others.

Narika grows through collaboration with others.

The bonds she forms, the connections she nurtures—she turns them into fuel for her evolution.

This is a talent Tennouji-san doesn’t have. Narika’s unhesitating willingness to lean on others is, in its own way, refreshing and pure, drawing people to her. And because she’s driven by the ambition to eventually achieve things on her own, you can’t help but want to see where her journey leads.

“Hehehe… Honestly, that’s so you, Miyakojima-senpai.”

Nishi-san, catching on a bit late, started laughing too.

Narika alone was left bewildered, not understanding why we were laughing at her.

No need to worry—it’s not like we’re exasperated or anything.

We were relieved.

Narika is someone who can bear the weight of others’ dreams. In her own way…

After a good laugh, Nishi-san gave a small bow.

“I’ll hand over the general affairs position. …I’ve always looked up to my sister’s back, but chasing after Miyakojima-senpai’s seems like it could be fun too.”

“…Thank you.”

Narika offered a brief word of thanks.

Nishi-san gave a gentle smile before turning to me.

“Tomonari-senpai.”

Caught off guard by Nishi-san calling my name, I, who had been standing by like a decoration, reacted a bit late.

“Tomonari-senpai, you’re absolutely essential to Miyakojima-senpai, aren’t you?”

“Huh?”

“When Miyakojima-senpai is with you, she’s even more straightforward and cool than usual.”

To Nishi-san, Narika right now must have looked exceptionally straightforward and cool.

She’s got a good eye. I think so too… though I’m not sure if that’s because of my influence.

“…Please take care of her.”

Nishi-san bowed to me as well.

Take care of her… Does she mean Narika? Or the student council?

Either way—

“Yes.”

I nodded confidently.

When Nishi-san looked up, she had a satisfied expression, but she left the table without another word. Though she promised to hand over the general affairs position, she likely still had complex feelings to sort through. She’d need time to process them.

It’s within the rules for Narika to aim for general affairs at this point. When Joutou asked Hinako to run for president before, I looked into whether it was allowed and confirmed that this case is fine too.

“…Was this really okay?”

The moment Nishi-san was out of sight, Narika murmured.

“I think it was fine.”

I turned to Narika and said.

“Originally, you aimed for student council president to change yourself, right?”

“…Yeah.”

Then there’s no problem.

“You’ve already changed plenty, Narika. I’ve been by your side the whole time, so I can vouch for it. …From here on, I think you can live a bit more freely.”

There are things you can only gain by becoming student council president.

But you don’t have to assume that’s the only correct path.

“If you’ve found something you want to do more than being president… and if the people around you are okay with it, there’s no reason for you to hold back.”

The day before we executed the guerrilla marketing, Narika told me with a genuine smile that the general affairs role seemed really interesting. Her desire to take on that role is real.

She must be aware that she made a sudden pivot right before the final speech. But Narika hasn’t wasted a single moment in this election. She threw herself into this fierce race with every ounce of her being.

It’s exactly because she fought so hard that she realized there was another path.

If she’d held back, she never would’ve reached this conclusion.

At that moment, tears began to spill from Narika’s eyes.

“These tears… what are they…?”

Not understanding why she was crying, Narika said.

“I’m not sad… but for some reason, they just keep coming…!”

The tears soon grew larger, and no matter how much she wiped her eyes, they kept falling to the floor. Students nearby noticed Narika’s state and started to approach with concern, but I shook my head to stop them. It’s okay, no need to worry. She’s not crying because she’s sad.

“Maybe it’s because you gave it your all?”

As Narika continued to cry, I said, gazing at the salon’s atmosphere.

“You did great getting this far. The Narika who used to get nervous just talking to strangers, who never even considered standing in front of others, is now captivating so many people. …There’s not a single person who’d misunderstand the current you like they did back then.”

Who could’ve predicted this outcome?

To think she’d go toe-to-toe with Tennouji-san in such a back-and-forth battle.

To stand unflinchingly against a formidable rival like Joutou, who appeared out of nowhere.

“Good job. Take a well-deserved rest.”

“Uwaaah… Izukiii…!”

Narika threw herself into my arms, sobbing.

I was about to say everyone’s watching, but I noticed her arms trembling slightly as she hugged me and let out a small sigh.

Gently patting her head, Narika pressed her head against me even harder.

Good job—

In my heart, I offered Narika those words of comfort once more.

◆

The policy experience event concluded without a hitch.

While helping clean up the auditorium, I noticed footsteps approaching from behind.

Turning around, I saw three figures.

Joutou, Rintarou, and the last one…

“Hey, Tomonari-kun.”

“…Minato-senpai.”

Seeing Minato-senpai greet me so casually, I frowned.

I thought I’d moved past it. Honestly, I don’t feel much anger toward Joutou anymore. But with Minato-senpai, it seems some lingering emotions still remain.

“Don’t look at me so harshly. I’m gathering the presidential candidates to explain the final speech procedures. Want to come?”

“…I’ll go.”

After nodding, my eyes met Joutou’s, who stood beside Minato-senpai.

I’d just made a bold declaration earlier. There were no words to exchange now. Sensing this, Joutou gave a small nod and looked away.

“Since Miyakojima-san is stepping down, we’ll start once we find Tennouji-san.”

With that, Minato-senpai moved to leave the auditorium without approaching Narika.

“…How do you know Narika’s stepping down?”

“When someone makes such a spectacle, word gets around whether you like it or not.”

A spectacle…?

“You two made quite a scene hugging in front of everyone. Are you two already planning a future together?”

“That’s not it… but sorry for causing a stir…”

Oh no. I’m starting to feel anxious about what comes after the election.

No, I shouldn’t think about that now. Shaking my head to clear the unease, I told them Tennouji-san was likely in the study room. We headed there, passing by a crowd of students leaving the academy, their policy experience events also just concluded.

Seeing the cheerful smiles of the passing students, Joutou quietly lowered his gaze.

What he was thinking… I couldn’t tell.

“Excuse me, is Tennouji-san here?”

Minato-senpai called out as we passed through the already-open door of the study room.

Their policy experience event seemed to have wrapped up smoothly as well, with cleanup already underway. Partitions used for booth boundaries were being carried out through the opposite door.

“Oh, what brings all of you here together?”

Noticing us, Tennouji-san approached.

“I’d like to explain the final speech procedures. Could you come to the student council room now…?”

“Minato-senpai.”

Cutting off Minato-senpai, I spoke.

“Since we’re here, could you explain it in the study room?”

“That’s fine, but they’re in the middle of cleaning up, aren’t they? Won’t it be a bother…?”

“I want to hear it where there are people around.”

If someone tried to give us false instructions, having others present would ensure witnesses if needed.

There were nearly ten students in the study room, including the etiquette instructor Tennouji-san had invited and volunteers helping with cleanup. That should be enough witnesses.

Sensing my intent, Minato-senpai’s lips curved into a slight smile.

“That’s a good change.”

It’s not good.

I didn’t want to have to think like this.

“Then let’s borrow this space.”

One booth in the study room hadn’t been dismantled yet, so we used it. Chairs were quickly arranged, and we all gathered around a single table.

“By the way, where’s Miyakojima-san…?”

Tennouji-san asked, looking around.

I should be the one to explain.

“Narika…”

I told her Narika had withdrawn from the presidential race. Tennouji-san’s eyes widened.

But as I explained the situation, she began to show understanding.

“…It’s for a positive reason, isn’t it?”

After hearing the full explanation, Tennouji-san murmured.

“Then there’s nothing for me to worry about. Miyakojima-san has her own path to follow.”

Because she believed in Narika, Tennouji-san wasn’t concerned.

Still, she must have felt some loneliness. Perhaps due to a faint sense of unease, Tennouji-san slightly lowered her eyes.

I’m still here—I was about to say, but it wasn’t necessary.

Tennouji-san closed her eyes for about three seconds. When she opened them again, her gaze was steady. It wasn’t bravado. It was the act of overcoming her own weaknesses and standing strong. That’s what people call nobility.

Leave the rest to me.

It felt like I could hear Tennouji-san’s inner voice.

“Let’s go over the procedures.”

Minato-senpai explained the final speech process.

On the day, after the first period, students would receive voting slips from their teachers and gather in the auditorium. The presidential candidates would give their speeches in front of the entire student body, followed immediately by voting and tallying. All the teachers would handle the tallying.

After voting, students would return to their classrooms, and the results would be announced via broadcast. As per tradition, the announcement would come within twenty minutes. Newly elected student council members would then head to the student council room for a meeting.

Once the officers returned to their classrooms, the third period would begin.

“That’s the schedule for the day. Any questions?”

No one raised a hand. Minato-senpai nodded, satisfied.

“Then, let’s decide the order of the speeches.”

The order of the speeches… Given the scale, it’s an important factor.

Personally, I feel the second slot is more advantageous than the first. The audience isn’t fully settled during the first speech. The second speaker benefits from the students having a sense of the format and tone.

“I’ll go first.”

Without a hint of hesitation, Tennouji-san declared.

My eyes widened involuntarily.

“…Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ve always loved being number one.”

Tennouji-san said with a proud smile.

The moment I saw her face, all the anxieties I’d been harboring vanished. As long as Tennouji-san could be herself, the order didn’t matter.

“How trivial.”

Joutou spat out, his tone dripping with disdain.

As all eyes turned to him, he glared at Tennouji-san and continued.

“You people always spout pretty words. That just now? To me, it’s nothing but abandoning thought. But the lofty words of the ‘chosen’ ones sway so many people. They start thinking they should be like that too. …Even though most people could never imitate you.”

We pursed our lips at Joutou’s lament.

He was furious at the irresponsibility of the ‘chosen’ ones, whose actions misled others.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to say.”

Tennouji-san said, meeting Joutou’s gaze.

“Joutou-san, there’s some truth to your opinion.”

“…What?”

Joutou looked at Tennouji-san, caught off guard.

In this context, he hadn’t expected her to agree. …Neither had I.

“However, you lack refreshment.”

Tennouji-san continued.

“You lack a sense of clarity, a bright and open demeanor, a commanding presence.”

“…And what happens if I lack those?”

“You’re not fit to be president.”

Tennouji-san stated firmly.

“As someone who stands at the pinnacle of this noble academy, I believe I must show the students a guiding light.”

“Light…?”

Joutou furrowed his brow, a crease forming between his eyes.

It was an abstract expression. Yet, strangely enough, it clicked, settling into place with a quiet certainty.

I had a vague sense of what Tennouji-san was trying to convey.

“Watch my final speech closely. —Burn the image of me, bearing the light, into your eyes.”